


5. Ṣabbāb

by haochazu



Series: 14 Words [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Other, Robin Hood References
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 11:53:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18365483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haochazu/pseuds/haochazu
Summary: The outlaw known as Robin Hood, Princess of Thieves, steals the prince of England’s heart.





	5. Ṣabbāb

**Author's Note:**

> صَبَّاب  
> [Ṣabbāb] (noun):
> 
> 1\. The fifth in the spectrum of love in classical Arabic  
> 2\. the act of spilling the blood of one’s heart
> 
> Foreword:
> 
> I always like to think of stories starting with “What if.” Robin Hood has many renditions, even before its compilation. One of the most popular versions of the tale is in the reign of Richard the Lionheart during the Crusades. After watching Ertugrul (which is amazing, by the way) I was inspired to tell a story of Muslims as the good guys that somehow involved the spectrum of love in classical Arabic, 14 words that describe each stage in intricate detail. I had some Tea Pair AUs in the back of my head, and as I toyed more with the idea of Muslims settling in England after the Crusades (in many recent versions, Robin pairs himself with a Muslim companion), things began to work out.
> 
> I had Chūn as a refugee settling in from China after the Mongol siege, Englishmen secretly converting once they had met said Muslim companion and Muslims reuniting to end the corruption occurring at that time.
> 
> I think our world is really hurting now, and this allowed me a chance to say, “what if” and “why not” rather than dwell on what we think are uncertainties and impossibilities.
> 
> Is this all too fantastic? Yes. But is it a comfort to those who turn to stories instead of unsettling news? I hope so.
> 
> I pray that this finds you at a time that you need it.

﷽¹

 _For my Beloved and His Beloved_ ﷺ _._

 

The forest welcomed her, branches wide as if they were open arms. The trunk seemed to spread itself enough to cover her frame. The leaves rustled in the wind to hide her footsteps, keeping her secret with them. It was as if they understood that her name was more than that — _nay, we shall treat you as the bird you claim to be. You aim to keep this greenwood safe, and we, in turn, will keep you safe._

She was foreign to this land but dared to call it _home_ anyway. The road they had crossed was barren of the silk and gold that the traders had so often brought from her country in the east. Though her name was of a red-feathered bird, her hair was raven-colored, and her skin like the edging wisps of a swallow’s feathers. Her eyes, however — yes, when the sun touched them they turned from tawny to gold, and pierced like talons when they were ready to fire an arrow.

Across from her was Eagle. He was like a newborn chick; golden-brown hair always ruffled by the wind, and his weathered eyes like the morning sky. His name was well-earned, however: if his sword or arrows ever wavered, his speed and strength would correct their path. Jay lingered at his side. Like herself, her eyes and hair were dark, but her demeanor spread light throughout their camp.

Falcon and Kite stood near the same tree. The two often worked in tandem; Falcon with his iron-steady grip and Kite with his graceful, slow aim. There were Ibis and Swan, the quiet killers. Kestrel. Egret. They all wore hoods that masked their faces, but she knew them all by their movements.

The Ṭayr rattled the hearts of both the oppressed and the oppressors. For those threatened, they were harbingers of good news, promising them that indeed, while the night had come before, the day would bring its bountiful provision.

For those who threatened, a different story entirely. Much like how God once sent birds to protect His house.² They, the Ṭayr³, they were there to protect their home.

Her eyes fell on the last member of their troupe, and for a moment she softened. There was a joke amongst them — _she never lets_ Sparrow _out of her sight._ He was an arm’s length away from her reach. Sparrow was a fledgeling; a newcomer to the Ṭayr. She had found him years ago after the king’s men had left his village barren. Though he was small then, he had vowed to take his revenge and prevent such a calamity from occuring again.

All accounted for. She peered through the tree’s leaves at the ground scene. Anyone with any sense of justice would have been crying out, but the poor townspeople had sealed their lips as one of their own was stripped and soon to be whipped.

Below, the sheriff cracked a whip as he approached the shaking man. His body was tied to cart, exposed for the rest of them to see.

“Let this be a lesson to _all of you_ !” the sheriff boomed. “That when you deprive His Grace ungracefully… then he will deprive _you_ of your dignity. _There shall be no thieves under the reign of the Regent_.”

She glanced at Jay.

It was time.

The other woman nodded and cupped her hands around her mouth. Softly, she cooed to the crowd.

The crowd began whispering. Their group was too far to hear, but she knew well what they were saying.

_“Robin Hood.”_

A sly smile crept across her lips.

_“Robin Hood is here.”_

The sheriff growled and ordered silence. She could hear his voice trembling. Even with the distance between them, he knew that his demise was near.

“ _Launch your arrows!_ ”

The soldiers obeyed. The Ṭayr stood firm behind the high trunks of their trees; so long as the arrows rained from the opposite direction, it could not reign over them.

The trees shook from the impact. Their feathery companions and counterparts flew out from the trees, unable to speak to them and yet in perfect sync with the plan. The weak men of the King Regent would be led to believe that the trees carried none of Robin Hood’s troupe, and instead, only real birds.

_“Fire!”_

Robin beckoned Sparrow to come closer and the two of them braced for the bows’ wrath. The arrows assaulted the trunks below, sending shivers up the tree.

_“Fire!”_

This was their normal tactic. The king’s men second-guessed the calling of the bird, so fearful of their famed arrows that they would waste their weaponry. Leaving them close to powerless.

“ _Search the forest. Now!”_

The Ṭayr watched her. She knew not when the tradition of being the one to strike first became her own. It may have been in a raid past, when they looked to their leader before they could have the courage to kill.

Now that the trees had done their part, it was time for the ground of the greenwood to defend the Ṭayr. The knights stepped onto the leaves, and they alerted each one above of a new target.

_They are here, O Ṭayr, get them._

Robin inhaled. As she filled her chest with air, so too did she fill her bow with its arrow. The others did the same. Even the wood of the string understood and stretched, silently.

Ten soldiers had entered the greenwood.

Ten of them fell prey to the Ṭayr’s arrows.

Frantic now, the knights shot arrows into the air and hoped that they would aim on their opponents. Some of their party bid farewell to the trees’ trunks and leapt to the leaves, unsheathing their swords and daggers. The others, who never cowered under their quivers, remained behind to shoot any stragglers that came.

The Ṭayr fought more nobly than the nobility that their attackers claimed to have. Their dainty, refined tactics of the knights were no match for them — the rules they had learnt of battle were broken, beaten, by the harshness they had learnt from the forest.

Two knights lost their battle against her bow, and one died by her blade. Her companions had similar situations; the knights’ numbers were no match for their knowledge of the greenwood. Indeed, she did not have to wait long for them to finish their fights. Their energy had to be spent on the enemy before them. They gestured toward the square, promising that the mess before her would be taken care of before she returned.

Complete chaos was in the square, a quietness that had turned into a crescendo calling for justice. The sheriff had unsheathed his sword and had it pointed at the back of the thief.

 _“Robin Hood!”_ He eyed her carefully with a smirk on his lips. “Do you want to save this town? Every person in it?” His arms drew back his blade. “Lay down your own weapon and _I’ll lay down mine._ ”

Eagle and Falcon immediately protested behind her, and Kite grasped the both of their shoulders. Kite nodded slowly at her. The trust that the Ṭayr had in Robin was impenetrable. Robin Hood _always_ found a way out.

Her eyes narrowed at the sheriff. She kneeled to place her arrows and blade on the ground. Unbeknownst to the sheriff, she had her daggers tucked near her chest, slim arrows that never failed.

When she rose, an arrow whizzed past her ear. By the time her eyes could figure out its target, the sheriff was already gasping for air. His sword clattered to the ground and his legs gave way. The thief below him sputtered, in bewilderment that the one who overpowered him was now under him.

Her body betrayed her. She knew she did not need to look, and yet her sharp gaze turned behind her. There Sparrow was, the edge of his mouth twitching, and everyone erupted into applause.

Save for Robin.

 

➳

 

It took hours to straighten the town again. The Ṭayr had to rally to keep the crowd under control while Robin could attend to freeing the thief. Wordlessly, she freed the prisoner from his locks and the keys from the sheriff’s motionless body. The treasury, food pantry, and markets, were then completely cleansed from the corruption the knights had wrought.

Sparrow was tasked with helping Jay. The two spent the rest of the afternoon returning belongings to their rightful owners. Even in times like these, where communities had all lost something — many felt that there could still be much to gain.

Thankfully, the very last one that came was the thief. He embraced Sparrow, blubbering his thanks, before Sparrow shly peeled him away and gave him a well-wishing nod.

Jay beamed at him. “Sparrow, the new celebrity! Robin has to be on her toes, now! Since you steal all the attention now.”

“Was _not_ stealing, this time,” he said. The boy pulled down his hood. Robin was not the only one with the hood. It made hiding their identities easier.⁴ “Saving… I suppose you could say.”

“Oi! Sparrow!”

It was Eagle. He beamed at Jay before giving Sparrow a heavy pat on the back. That was Eagle: jovial, quick, and far stronger than he realized.“Great-! Er...” His blue eyes darted behind him, and his voice lowered to a whisper. “Great job, back there. That sheriff had to go.”

Before Sparrow had the chance to smile, Eagle cleared his throat. An attempt to sound official once more.  “Robin...wants to talk to you. In the greenwood.”

His heart sank. Jay gave him a reassuring glance, one that seemed to say _Don’t worry, you’re still her favorite!_ but still, she hadn’t the courage to voice it.

“Be right there,” he muttered. He left without offering the two of them a nod, instead sighing visibly through his nose. A young man like him was still navigating the ins and outs of customs, of traditions… and, what some would argue, true justice.

Farther and farther he strayed from the town. The shade of the trees began to cover whatever remained of the sunlight. It peeked through to the leaves at his feet, guiding him to where they had first shot down the Regent’s troops.

He felt as if he stumbled upon her by accident. She was kneeling on the ground, shifting stones to the tops of graves they had dug for their dead enemies. If she heard him, she gave no indication. Doubtless she had. Robin Hood had to keep all faculties aware to stay alive.

Though she could not see him, he averted his gaze from her to his shoes. They began to shift on their own, begging her to notice that he had arrived. Robin laid the last stone on top of the freshly dug dirt.

He was angry, angry that these corrupt cowards received a free funeral from the Ṭayr. They should have been burned. Not buried. He thought of his village long ago, how they had finished their destruction of his home by sending it in flames. “Why are you doing that.”

Sparrow bit his lip immediately after, as if the words had slipped because his mouth had been open.

Robin didn’t move. What remark she would have ready for him? Much like firing an arrow, Robin knew where to aim her words, where they would hurt.

She merely breathed. Deeply. He assumed it was the kind of breath a parent took before they had the air to discipline their child. He was not certain; for his parents perished long before they ever had to punish him.

His face tilted slightly upwards to observe hers, and he saw something he had only started to notice in his fifteen years: age. Deep lines that laced underneath her eyes. The creases of crow’s feet at the edges. A light scar on one cheek.

Sparrow shut his eyes. But he couldn’t escape. Her voice followed him in the darkness.

“When our pious predecessors entered the holy city...”

It was the same voice she used when he was younger. After his village had been raised to the ground, she had decided to raise him. The memory of that morning made him mute, his only sounds the cries he had after his nightmares.

Those first few weeks he had been unable to sleep, haunted by the memories of him being there. She would wake, each time he was in a forceful fit, and begin storytelling, soothingly.

“Those citizens charged with being the denizen of that holy city… they did not deserve the duty. They killed the righteous. Boycotted their businesses. Impaled and impeded their goodness. Emptied filth on them as they prayed. Ran them out, their beautiful haven now a hazard.

“As the Muslims rode into Mecca, now victorious, those Meccans wondered...” She shifted her weight to the opposite side. It looked as if it were a heavy task, the slightest movements bringing her such burden. How was it possible, he wondered, when her frame was so thin?

“‘How will they treat us, after we treated them?’”

Sparrow was starting to understand. But his heart and brain did not want to, vain youth striving to remain stubborn to the end.

“Our Prophet — peace and blessings be upon him — asked those people, ‘O People of Quraysh, what do you think of the treatment that I should accord you?’”

Her gentle voice turned firm now. “They said… ‘Mercy, O Prophet of God. We expect nothing but good from you.’” Her eyes shut, and she exhaled. “He replied… ‘I speak to you in the same words as Joseph, peace be upon him, spoke to his brothers. _This day there is no reproof against you_ ; Go your way. For you are free.’”⁵

Sparrow stood in silence, like a child finally aware of right and wrong. Robin finally rose from the ground.

“I tell you this... because it was one of them against ten of us.” He wanted to hide beneath the leaves at his feet. “We could have put that sheriff to justice. Discovered more information about the Regent and his plans.”

“He was going to kill him anyway.” The things she spoke of— mercy, goodness — those things should only be shown to the merciful and the good. The sheriff had neither of those when he had killed down other villages, and he hadn’t had them hours ago. “As soon as you would have gone, he would have-”

“The only hearts we know are our own.” Robin so rarely interrupted, save for when she felt there was a more proper response.

“He could have _killed_ you!” He noticed then that his chest had been heaving, and he stammered to regain control. He knew that the others viewed him as the impatient Sparrow. The rescued one. The pitied one. Every day, he felt as if he was a bird in a cage, struggling to prove his worth.

His throat suddenly felt very dry. “I-I… I was just… trying to help.”

Robin did not speak. Sparrow gulped and wiped his face. He wished, then, that he was the bird for which he was so named. To fly. He felt as if he was a fledgeling that had fell out of its nest too early. And now he was too damaged from the fall to escape.

Yet, she was the hen who darted down to its young. Offered a wing. Miraculously returned it home.

“I breathe before you. And you before me.” She inched toward him, forcing him to make eye contact. “ _With unneeded blood on your hands._ ”

He hung his head in shame. No more defiance. He had none left.

“ _They_ are not our teachers, Sparrow.”⁶ She extended a hand out. He knew immediately what that meant. “And you must learn that, Siu Chūn.”

Resolutely, he removed his bow and arrows from his back. Robin accepted them.

Yet he was surprised, still, when she offered him her hand again. His brows furrowed, wondering if she knew he had no more weapons — before he thought of the time they first met.

He understood.

Her fingers fluttered, gesturing toward the town. He followed.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. In the name of God, Intensely Merciful and Infinitely Merciful  
> 2\. In one verse of the Quran, it's revealed that an unjust king tried to take over the Ka'aba. He brought all these great elephants (the equivalent of tanks back then) but he was stopped by all these birds who sent stones to crush them. Here's a vid: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=meqLFR5WDFE  
> 3\. Literally "Birds." It sounds cooler in Arabic! I originally wanted to go with English and say "Birds of Prey," but a lot of the birds that the characters are, are not actual birds of prey... lol.  
> 4\. "At least eight plausible origins to the story have been mooted by historians and folklorists, including suggestions that "Robin Hood" was a stock alias used by outlaws in general who did not want to reveal their identity."  
> 5\. My apologies, I don't really know the Christian tradition of Joseph's story but here's a short video explaining the Muslim paradigm: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kl16bua4Wlc The story that Chūn is describing is called "the conquest of Makkah." It's one of my favorites from the Muslim tradition!  
> 6\. Omar Mukhtar, the leader of Libyan soldiers, said this quote when he was asked why he would not avenge the way Muslims had been treated by the Italian Colonists. Obviously this is many more years down the line but it just stuck with me!


End file.
